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Until her.
And now… the kit. The possibility of a future.
“What did you see?” I demand of Romulus, who still seems dazed. I can’t lose them now that I have just gained them.
This all feels like history cruelly repeating itself. My father’s consort was also a fleeting light of kindness in our long darkness. But like delicate candle flame, she flickered only briefly before being snuffed out.
I will not let the same happen to Hannah-consort.
“What did you see? Tell me!” I grab him by the shoulders but Romulus’s eyes remain wide, and if I didn’t know him better, I’d say, panicked.
That is, before they go completely blank, and then his head spins a one-eighty, and I’m met with Remus grinning at me. “Trouble in paradise, brother?”
Roaring in fury, I toss him away from me. All things considered t’s the less-violent option. “Bring your twin back. I have questions for him.”
But Remus just makes a tut-tut-tut noise. “You know we share memories, fool. Just lemme take a peek.” His eyes tilt sideways, widening slightly. “No shit. An angel, huh? One of those fuckers escaped the pearly gates?”
“What do you see?” I ask. “What does it want with us?”
Remus shrugs, plucking small wood splinters from the table off his shirt. “How should I know? Like Romulus said, he didn’t get a good look before the motherfucker blasted us with angelfire through the runes. But he was already looking our way, that was for damn sure. It didn’t feel like an accidental rune-cross. And he was shielding himself. Rom’s rusty. He hasn’t scried for centuries. He wasn’t careful enough.”
“Fuck, so it already knew about us, is that what you’re saying? Is it coming? You don’t think—”
“What?” This from Thing, who’s been loping nervously in the open space beside us like an animal with barely leashed energy.
“It couldn’t have been him who Hannah-consort met that day in the woods, right?”
“Of course not,” Remus barks out a laugh. “Else why would it ever let her go?” He looks my way. “Your scent was all over her. Any worthy adversary would have kidnapped her and held her for ransom.”
A growl comes from low in my throat even at the thought. “She is not to be left alone for a moment.”
Remus grins. “I’m happy to take first watch.”
My growl grows to a roar. “Don’t make me rip out your throat, brother, just when we’ve started getting along so well.”
He leans in, teeth in something between a smile and a menacing warning. “I’d love to see you try.” His eyes glitter with mania.
“Stop being fools, both of you.” Thing gets off his knuckles and rises to his full height. “Must stop fighting each other if the threat to Hannah-consort is real.”
“Oh it’s real,” Remus says. “That angel rune-fire knocked me across the damn room, and you know how difficult any matter manipulation usually is through scrying. I’d hate to see what the motherfucker could do in person.”
I swear. Angels quit this world many millennia ago. It’s why our father thought that if he could steal enough angel-fire to recreate some, he’d be able to rule over this world of mere humankind.
I glare at Remus. “I’ll be the only one watching my consort.” But then I look over at Thing. “Well, Thing can take watches while we sleep. No one rests until we find out more. Whenever Romulus comes back, tell him to get back in practice warding himself until he can scry again without getting knocked on his ass!”
With that, I storm out of the room and head up to the bedroom because I don’t intend to let my consort go another moment without my eyes on her at all times.
Chapter Forty-Three
HANNAH
I’m in the bedroom, polishing off my food and thinking about returning to the kitchen to rustle up some more when the door bangs open. Thankfully, I’ve just put down the plate or I might have dropped it.
I didn’t think of barring the door, and I immediately go on the alert as Abaddon’s hulking shape fills the space after he ducks past the threshold and shuts it behind him.
“You go nowhere without me by your side,” he barks.
I cross my arms over my chest. How many times are we going to have to have the conversation explaining that I’m not a dog? Obviously, he doesn’t listen. So why am I wasting my breath? In fact, not talking seems like an excellent idea.
There’s no point in talking to a person who doesn’t see me as an equal, so I won’t. I just stare at him pointedly, my arms crossed tightly, and then I turn away from him without a word and start to make the bed.
“Hannah-consort,” he says.
I ignore him and continue to tidy the bed linens. I once had a really temperamental friend who loved to give me the silent treatment if I ever committed what she considered the least slight against her, so I am familiar with the tactic. Briefly, I consider how this did not go well for me when I tried it with him last time, but I’m feeling stubborn.
